Wanderer

32 - Horizons

I can feel the storm in the air.

It started with the sunset. Clouds covered the sky all day. The sun didn't break through until dinner, when it tore a hole through the dark clouds and poured out in harsh shafts of yellow-orange light. It was the ugliest sunset I have ever beheld.

Then the waves ahd been bothering me all day. They'd had no rhyme or reason, chopping aginst the Vongilote at random. The sea that spit them forth was a queer color, a sickly yellow-green.

I feel certain when the wind dies. The sail just crumples slack. There is definitely a storm coming. I don't have to climb the mast to look for the storm clouds coming from the east. They're there. I know they are. 

There is no time to lose. I jump down from the forecastle to the deck and yell for Alaytar and Elwing. I don't have to explain to them. Alaytar comes striding out of his little cabin and with one look instantly disappears back inside it. Elwing goes into the galley to put out the fire there, and then begins to tidy up my cabin.

I head below deck and begin to lash things down in the hold: barrels of food and water. I can hear Alaytar running about on deck, securing rigging, taking down the sails, tying down the precious water casks.

Out the glass sides, the ocean looks worse. Strange currents paw at the sides, bubbles swept against them. No fish are to be seen. I look down. As usual, the seabad eludes my gaze.

I climb back onto deck and check on Elwing. She looks nervous, slightly pale, and her hands are trembling as she packs clothing into a waterproof trunk.

"Listen," I say. "It's going to be alright. I promise. I've been through lots of these storms. As long as we're ready, nothing bad will happen."

She isn't convinced. "If I lose you, then I'll go mad. I really will."

I laugh. "When I'm here, you worry about me going, and when I'm gone, you worry that I'll never come back. Don't you ever just enjoy me?"

Elwing looks away.

I reach for her and quickly kiss her. "Then try not to worry. If worst comes to worst, and it lasts into the night, then just get into bed and wait for me."

Back outside, the wind has picked up again. The sail, lashed to the mast, is trying desperately to free itself. The gale is driving us before it. I can see the clouds now, angry and tall.  My heart gives a quick jump.

The mariner is clawing its way to the surface.

"There's land."

Alaytar's soft voice breaks through my thoughts. He points to the west.

"What?" I strain, trying to see. There's nothing but water, as far as I can see.

Alaytar nods gravely, his long hair whipping in the wind. "Just about two thousand leagues away."

"You can see that?" I shake my head. 

"It's the precursor to the Valinor." Alaytar's shouting now, over the wind.

"The Havens."

He nods. 

As we speak, the light visibly dims as clouds roll in. The wind's force intesnsifies. It is almost screaming. I can't hear Alaytar over it. Then he taps his shoulders and mimes pulling a cloak on. Right. Can't forget that. I'll be soaked otherwise. 

I force my way through the howling wind and back into the cabin where Elwing sits up with a start. I grab my cloak from the peg. 

"Take this!" I turn back to Elwing. I rip the Silmaril from my neck and give it to her. "Hold on to this for me. Just in case."She takes the little pouch, spechless with terror.

Of course I can't let her stay like that. I cross the room and hold her tightly. "Please don't worry. I'll be back. I promise."

By the time I rejoin Alaytar on deck, the rain has started. It's not too bad, yet, anyways, I think, gripping the wheel tightly, and then the valley opens up in the water before us.

I scream something to Alaytar, something real intelligent like Hold on! and then we're plummeting down into the depths of the ocean. I pray to Eru like I've never done before. 

Finally the sickenig descent ends. We jerk to a stop, and the first massive wave rolls over the Vingilote from the forecastle to the stern.

The shock of the cold water makes me flinch, and I get a mouthful of cold water for my troubles. I grasp the wheel with the intensity of a dying man nad fight the pull of receding water that threatens to wash me overboard, right over the back of the ship.

When it ceases, I clear the salt from my eyes, thoroughly shaken, and catch a glimpse of Alaytar, sodden but alive, clinging to the mast. I barely have time to cath my breathe when the whole ship lists to the port and I am  holding on to the wheel again for dear life.

The rain is harder and more punishing now. I struggle to right the Vingilote and have to take my mind off Alaytar's safety to concentrate. I slip on the deck, slick with spray, and the Vingilote loses control, jerking violently to the side, and plunges into another watery trench.

Now my heart comes into my throat. This time, it's not out of excitement. 

Elwing was right to be afraid.